Turns out, running away wasn't the best choice I made.

Because the night i ran away, the night I killed Louis and Aneet, albeit "accidentally" was the night i fell in love, and out of it too.

Again.

And killed my love.

Again.

This really HAS started happening with alarming frequency in my life now, hasn't it?
Eh, well, a woman has needs, and men like Neil, James and Louis seem to have the capacity, and more importantly, the inclination to fulfill all my little heart's desires. Plus, old habits die hard.

Back to that fateful night, I ran away from my ungodly-big mansion, with just money to sustain me. I had no idea where I was going; all I knew was that I had to get away from London, it's judgemental people (people who thought that ME, Zxy, was THIS cruel and heartless!!), it's pathetic weather (which wasn;t helping right then...snotty rain EVERYWHERE!!), and most of all, it's VERY efficient police. Not only were the Runners VERY good looking and delectable, but they also took their job very seriously! Some should just chill once in a while, if you know what i mean! *wink*

Anyway, i started walking out of the city, hoping to see a late night stray carriage somewhere, or someone who could guide me to some town. Alas, my luck was playing "snakes and ladders" with me that night, what with the "murders", the stupid rain, and the sexy man i was about to run into.

Now, it so happened that the rain wasn't letting up, and I had taken shelter inside an abandoned, though thankfully clean and dry barn on the roadside. Don't ask me why there was a barn in the middle of the road, just know that it was there, and that I was grateful it was. I dumped my bags of money inside and came out again to look for any passers-by.

That was when I saw what was to be my fourth tryst with destiny.

Love, actually, but then isn't that what life is all about?

The carriage was normal enough. Not too fancy, but then not too plain as well. Just the way I liked them, infact. :)

I went and stood in the middle of the road, making the driver stop and come out to shout at me for standing in the way. I started pleading with him, asking him to please help me, and let me go, when he started muttering something about them Runners.

Then I heard this uber-sexy, dripping with testosterone, completely enchanting voice asking the driver what the trouble seemed to be. The driver, uneducated, ill-mannered git that he was, answered in his gruff drawl, explaing my "predicament", sarcasm dripping in his tone.

I half expected the man to get out and call the Runners himself and make sure I was hauled in(that's what Neil, James or Louis would have done if they were in his place), but what he did next made me sure that he was different from the rest.

He did come out of the carriage, but not to get me caught. Instead, he behaved like a perfect gentleman. He was kind, sincere, polite and not to mention, HOT.

Like really, really, really hot.

Like George Clooney, Brad Pitt and Neil Patrick Harris rolled in one hot.

Or maybe even hotter than that concoction.

He was the perfect male specimen, if I've ever seen one, and BOY, I've seen a LOT of male specimens in my time (and after my time too, but we'll talk about that later, shall we? ). Not ONE of them held a candle to this guy. Okay, maybe Neil did, but the man who stood in front of me had a beauty surpassed by none wh live in this time.

He was clean shaven, with a chiselled jaw, as finely cut as a sculptor's masterpiece. His hair was blonde (that was the ONLY thing I would've changed about the man, sandy hair makes me weak in the knees at first glance. Blonde takes a few minutes to digest, but the final result is still the same, if you know what I mean.), dirty blonde, to be specific, slick and put back in a suave hairdo. Though his eyes were his (and mine, as it turns out) undoing. Those blue-green pools of pure lusty colour! I swear I could've drowned in them! I'd heard his voice, before, obviously, but apparently, I'd falied to recognise it. Only when I'd stared into those eyes for a few seconds that the recognition hit me like a bolt of lightening from nowhere, plunging right into my stomach like one of those daggers I'd used to kill people.

This man was Gregory George.

Also known as Grey George.

Also known as Grey.

Also known as My.First.Love.

All at once, I had a vision of the past blurring by. Like little video clips floating around my head...The George family and ours holdaying together in France, The George boys (Grey and Paul), and Grey's hero-worshipping, snivelly little best friend Zed Smith (he worshipped Grey, of course!), luncheon with the boys, Amanda and me, little TEA-PARTIES that I used to organise for all of us, playing house with me and Grey as Mommy and Daddy, and everyone else as our kids, the tirade was ENDLESS! We had spent so much time together as children that it actually surprised me that I'd completely forgotten the man so quickly! Eh, well, I guess sex (and sometimes the lack of it, as well) does that to people. Then I remembered why I hadn't spoken to him for so long, apart from the fact that he had been away all this while, to Spain, I think.

The George family and ours had had a litte tiff before my birthday (the one on which I killed that bitch, Samantha, and of course, Amanda), and so I hadn't seen them in a long time. Suddenly seeing Grey brought back a LOT of those memories! Sigh, life does take unusual turns, doesn't it?

Grey looked at me weirdly, as if trying to recognise me from somewhere, but failing badly. I quietly whispered, "Grey", hoping that would bring back the memories of the first time I had called him that.

Right after we kissed for the first time.

Right after my first kiss. Ever.

Yes, Grey was my first kiss, let's move past it shall we?

Anyway, turns out that it did.

Because the next two second saw him turn red.

Like a frikking tomato.

Or maybe frikking tomato KETCHUP would be a better comparison. :P

"Zxy?"

"Yes, Grey. It's me."

"I almost didn't recognise you. You look dishevelled. Is something the matter?"

"YES!", I wanted to shout, and run right into his arms, but I controlled myself and instead, said, actully WHIMPERED, a "yes."

"I'm fine though. Sorry for hogging the road, I didn't know you were going to pass this way."

"Are you crazy? how could you know I'd pass this way? An more importantly, what are you doing here in the middle of the road, in the middle of the night? I thought you were married?!"

At this point, I really DID run right into his arms. I was just completely washed out from the whole murder thing, and completely turned on from seeing Grey after such a long time! I hoped Grey stilled liked being the saviour, as he did when we were kids, always trying to save little damsels in distress. Of course, then it meant little girls in pigtils, but I guess tonight, me was all he was going to save.

"I am! I mean, I was, but my husband is dead! My children are at home and there is absolutely no one I can turn to right now!"

Patting my back, he said "oh, now, now, Zxy, I'm really sorry for you. Don't worry, everything will be alright. Shit happens. We just have to move past these things, make a new start, maybe even revisit the past and meet with friends from the past, you never really know what God plans for us....."

While feeding me all this bullsyte, he probably saw the barn, and started leading me up to it, probably to get me out of the cold and wet weather outside. The perplexed driver had long gone to the carriage, probably realising that his casanova master wouldn't be returning anytime soon, especially of a promiscuous-looking woman like me had anything to do with it, if you know what I mean.

So, we entered the barn, him leading me into it, acting all brave and gallant, talking about love and life and ife-lessons all the while.

Now while I LOVE listening to hot men talk about life lessons, church and God (who wouldn't? :p ), there's just so much of it I can take without completely wanting to bach the guy's head into a million tiny pieces (and I think Louis would tell you the exact same thing. If he were alive. Which he isn't. Because I drowned him. In cold water, nonetheless. One word. BUAHAHAHA), so I did the second most effective thing I could.

I seduced him.

And BOY, was it good!

I stood up on my toes, leaning as if wanting to say something, and when he leaned in toward me, I took his face in my hands and planted a smackery right on his beautiful pink lips.

To say he was surprised would be an understatement.

To say he was totally into it too, after the initial shock, would also be an understatement.

So would saying that he reciprocated by grabbing by butt(aaahh).

But to say that he STILL managed to die at my hands would do too.

This was how it happened.

Here we were, completely making out, like not a minute had passed since I'd turned 16, every part of my body wanting him, competely, unconditionally.

He was totally groping my butt, and trying to reach my breats at the same time, so I made things easier for him. I opened up my blouse, and let him continue with the foreplay while I worked on his zipper.

Needless to say, a few minutes of moaning and groaning later, we were buck naked, going at it, RIGHT ON THAT BARN FLOOR! I was having the best sex of my life!

God bless God for doing that to me, Beelzy, though I would'nt EVER forgive you for what happened next.

Here he was, Grey, moaning in pleasure, hell, even making ME moan, when suddenly he called out "Zed!".

Seven times.

In succession.

While he was still inside me.

While we were doing it.

I stopped. Immediately. Which girl wouldn't, if she heard the name of the ugliest kid she'd ever seen come out of the mouth of the most beautiful man she'd ever seen, while she was riding him (or he was riding her, but that's hardly the point, now, is is? ), finally, like she'd wanted to, since she was a teenager?

Seriously, THIS was how my teenage dream was supposed to end?

I had one word, and one word only for what had just happened. FAIL.

Two actaully, if you think about it. EPIC FAIL.

That man was the biggest Man-Bitch I'd seen (or had sex with) in my life!!

First of all, he was GAY (or swinging the OTHER WAY, as they used to call it then), then he was having sex with me (and the best sex ever, too!), not caring AT ALL how I felt!! I'd never been this insulted in my entire life. Even Samantha seemed like a puppy in front of this man-bitch.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?"

"Huh? Nothing!"

"Don't you 'nothing' me, you little freak! I heard you! You called out 'Zed'. And not even once, not even twice but SEVEN times. SEVEN."

"oh, right. I'm sorry, I guess."

And then he shrugged.

It was at that moment that I decided that I was going to kill him.

Right there.

I dind't care if his driver was waiting in the carriage, this man had to die NOW.

So I killed him.

Easy-peasy, Simple-pimple.

I strangled him to death.

Sex always makes me feel giddy, but it also always makes me feel powerful. And I used that power right then to squeeze the air out of that super-hot man's lungs. He went from pink to purple to blue and then to white in a span of a few minutes.

It was the most beautiful sight ever. It almost compared to the vision of AP and ST's dead bodies, but then that was a classic. This was almost there, but not quite.

I guess that was probably because I actually loved this man. Cared for him, even.

But he obviously didn't mind playing with my feelings! Well, then, tit for tat, I didn't mind playing with his LIFE. Beat that, the hottest guy I've seen, dead-or-alive.

But then of course, after the rush wore off, my senses returned.

Oh, damn. I'd just killed another human.

So, (ad don't judge me for doing this because I know you want to), I did the only thing I could do.

I wore my clothes.

Took the money.

And fled.

Oh, damn, I was on the run again.